


What We May Be

by MiraMira



Category: Galaxy Quest (1999)
Genre: Acting, Actors, Friendship, Gen, Gift Fic, Post-Canon, Present Tense, Theatre, Wordcount: 500-1.000, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Tis better to have known curtain calls and lost, then never to have been called at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We May Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ironed_orchid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironed_orchid/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, ironed_orchid! This popped into my head while browsing prompts, so apologies for any canon inconsistencies I overlooked in my eagerness. I hope you enjoy!

“Is it true?”

Gwen looms in the doorway of Alexander's trailer, backlit by the late afternoon sun, blazing with barely concealed fury. 

For propriety's sake, Alexander sputters a bit and clutches his dressing gown as he leaps to his feet, but his heart isn't in the performance. He deserves the intrusion for not checking the locks. Besides, he doubts any show of indignation will register with Gwen in her current state – a suspicion confirmed when she hurls a copy of Variety at his head.

“You're _leaving?_ ” she accuses. “All that talk about the opportunity to elevate the genre, all those read-throughs spent refining your character arc, and the instant the West End comes calling, you're too good for us again?”

Never before has he called so fervently on his projection skills. “No, I am _not_ leaving. There was a minor tiff over scheduling, and my blithering numbskull of an agent decided the most expedient means of resolving it would be to play hardball in the press.”

“Oh.” Despite his commitment to the Method, Alexander has always admired Gwen's ability to shift emotions in the blink of an eye. All traces of rage evaporated, she leans against his bureau. “Then I suppose I _should_ be mad at you for not inviting me to come listen while you chewed him out.”

He smiles. “It was one of my more inventive monologues.”

“There _is_ a play, though?” She tilts her head at him with that look of total concentration the camera loves so. In fact, he wonders if the real reason she spent so much time listening to the computer in the original series was that no one else could have made its damn jargon seem so compelling.

“Yes,” he explains, rather than take the risk of voicing that hypothesis to her. “One of my stipulations: when we're on extended shooting break, I am free to trod the boards to my heart's content. The greater balance I achieve this time around, the less opportunity I have to resent Lazarus with the intensity of every sun of Warvan, and the less we all suffer for it.”

Gwen's expression goes unreadable for an instant, before breaking into a smile. “That sounds...really nice. Good for you, Alexander.”

“Thank you,” he starts to say, but she is already half out the door. Were her face not turned away, he suspects, it would still be hidden from him.

But he can read enough into the silence. How long has it been since Gwen brought news of one of her projects to him? Has she ever done so with excitement, rather than mockery or resignation?

He cannot recall. All he can think of are years of lamentations for his lost curtain calls – borne, if not patiently, than with far greater compassion than he has ever deserved. At least he knew what it was to have lost them.

His phone lies on the bureau. He picks it up, selecting one of the frequently dialed numbers. “It's Dane,” he announces the instant the ringing stops, then basks in the assistant's frantic apologies for placing him on hold. 

“Stop groveling, you idiot,” he growls a second later as his agent begins babbling in his ear. “That's not why I'm calling. Remember that Off-Broadway production of Hamlet? Are they still looking for their Gertrude?” A few interminable seconds more, and the babbling produces the answer he needs. “Good. I have a suggestion.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _"Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."_ \-  Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5.


End file.
